


The Chains That Bind Us

by dezfontes



Series: What Makes Us [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Draco Is a Jerk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, He doesn't stay that way, Post Hogwarts AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Slow Build, will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9474476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezfontes/pseuds/dezfontes
Summary: One year after the Battle of Hogwarts, there is a prison break at Azkaban. Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy is in charge of the Ministry. Muggle-borns are given two options: imprisonment or indentured servitude.





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon through all 7 HP books EXCEPT for the epilogue- I didn't like it, so I'm pretending it's not real :)  
> First Dramione fic I've written, also first slavery AU.
> 
> Please leave your comments or kudos, I really appreciate them!

**April 23, 2003**

Hermione stood on the top of the ridge overlooking the small gathering below. Everyone looked somber in their subtly classy black outfits, except for Luna who was clad in a myriad of orange and red. Hermione was glad she wasn’t close enough to see everyone’s faces. She didn’t think she could bear to see their grief up close.

She gazed down at the crowd as they lowered the coffin covered with dozens of lilacs into the ground. A single tear fell down her cheek as she began to shake with barely contained sobs. With a deep breath she steadied herself. She knew she was already risking too much by being here this long.

As she took one last look at all her friends down below, she whispered, “It was a hell of a way to die.”

 

**********

 

One year. That’s how long the peace lasted.

That’s when an unnatural storm caused a large-scale jailbreak from Azkaban. No magic. At least, no obvious magical source. Lightning hit the top corner of the prison, causing what was once a small crack to grow, allowing almost all those in the top security floors to escape.

It didn’t take long before Lucius Malfoy led the former Death Eaters to overpowering the newly reformed Ministry. After the takeover, new decrees were issued in quick succession. Muggle-borns were not allowed to attend schools. Muggle-borns were not allowed to hold public office. Muggle-borns were not allowed to run businesses. They were dragged from their homes and their families. Locked up in the Ministry’s holding cells, hundreds of witches and wizards feared torture and death.

But that was not the worst thing the Death Eaters had planned. The Malfoy-controlled Ministry established the Department of Mudblood Indentured Servitude- DoMIS for short. This allowed Muggle-borns a way out of imprisonment or death sentences. Instead, they would be sold as slaves to pureblood families, forced to serve out the remainder of their lives as maids and cooks, demeaning them to a status lower than that of a house elf.

At first, many empathetic purebloods were shocked at this proposal. Surely, nobody would ever _volunteer_ for such a position. Under the carefully planned cruelty of Lucius and his faithful followers, however, it was not long before the prisoners started lining up for a chance at slavery…….

 

**********

 

Draco stood against the wall drinking his firewhisky, trying his best to keep his facial expression impassive. He hated these gatherings, hated how easy it was to slip back into his old habits, his old attitudes. He particularly hated this party, if it could even be called that.

“Hey man,” Blaise got Draco’s attention as he walked up to him. “You going to take home a prize tonight?”

Draco raised one eyebrow at his friend. “Why would I want another servant to feed? I doubt any of them even know how to clean. Filthy Mudbloods.”

Blaise seemed unaffected by Draco’s mood, his smile fading into a kind of stern determination. “They’ll learn to serve if they know what’s good for them. They know this is the best option they have,” he said dismissively.

Draco nodded absentmindedly, scanning to observe the crowd around him. His father wasn’t attending the first auction, too busy running the wizarding world, but Draco was sure he would have multiple reports on the events of tonight. Draco knew that he would be expected to at least bid on a few of the “items” for sale tonight. He couldn’t help a small scowl of disgust at the idea of actually winning one of the prisoners.

The bell rang announcing the five-minute warning before the auction started, and people slowly made their way to their seats. Draco sat down a few rows from the front, where he was sure to get a good view of the “merchandise.” He would have preferred the back, but he knew his father would hear about it.

“Good evening everybody,” the speaker, a witch Draco didn’t recognize, addressed the crowd. The lady’s clean cut business suit and sharp features contrasted the smile on her face. “Before we begin, I would just like to thank you all for your participation in a momentous event. With your attendance, and your bids,” she said pointedly, “you are helping make history and form a new wizarding world free from conflict.”

The audience began clapping enthusiastically. Draco tried to hide the scowl on his face. The witch finished her speech, which Draco mostly tuned out. Then the auctioneer came to the block to begin the proceedings.

The auction seemed to move in a blur. The bidders, most of them families of Death Eaters, almost all of them Slytherin, looked forward gleefully as one slave after another was brought forward. Draco made sure to bid a few times, always making sure there was enough other interest to ensure he would be outbid. He got into a small bidding war with old Araminta Parkinson. She was a cruel old hag, and he knew that the poor young wizard up for sale would be punished mercilessly in her care. It was only fair that he increase the price a bit for her.

“Sold,” the auctioneer said. Draco looked up to see a small boy, no more than fifteen, tears freefalling from his face as he was escorted off the stage. Draco’s gaze followed the boy, but his face betrayed no emotion.

“Lot 67. Female. 20 years old. Born in London. Educated at Hogwarts. Previously associated with Harry Potter.”

Draco wrenched his eyes back to the stage. He’d recognize that bushy hair anywhere. Hermione Granger- the Gryffindor princess. He quietly cursed to himself. How had she gotten mixed up in this?

The crowd was bustling with energy. Many were eager to get their hands on one of Potter’s friends, no doubt already thinking of many torture ideas for her. Others were simply content to shout insults, hurling every name they could at her. If it affected her at all, nobody could tell. She stood tall, though how she could stay standing was a mystery. She looked as though she’d lost two stone during her imprisonment. Yet she stood, staring straight forward with a determined look on her face. Draco found himself smirking.

Suddenly the auction opened, and immediately the bids started rolling in. Soon though, bidders started dropping out as the bids became too high for their price range. It looked like the final bid would go to the Carrow family, as the auctioneer called once, twice-

“75,000 galleons,” a voice said clearly. Hermione’s head jerked to stare at where the voice came from. It was only when he saw her eyes on him that Draco realized the bid had come from him.

“76,000,” Amycus said coolly.

Draco stood swiftly from his chair. “100,000. And don’t even think about bidding higher, we all know you haven’t the funds to back up the claim.” He waiting for the auctioneer’s “Sold!” before sitting down.

**********

Hermione tripped over herself as she began to climb the steps out of the holding cell area. She knew it was one of her craziest ideas, volunteering to be one of the first Muggleborns to register with DoMIS. However, she knew that once they ran out of volunteers, DoMIS would starting forcing prisoners into becoming slaves. She also knew she had no chance of helping a rebellion from inside a cell. Logically, she knew being a slave to none other than Draco Malfoy (she shuddered at the mere thought) put her in a great position to spy. Logic could not calm her panicked, shallow breaths, or quiet the rapid beating of her heart. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she climbed those last two steps and walked out into the night, into whatever terrors awaited her new fate.


	2. The Collar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should put in a disclosure now: I do NOT condone the actions of some of the characters. I felt this was evident, but just to clarify: slavery and abuse of any kind are not ok.  
> If you are sensitive to abusive situations, I'm sorry, but this may not be the fanfic for you. Please consider this your warning.
> 
> That being said, please leave comments/kudos! I will try to update by Thursday each week (this chapter is early by some miracle!)

Draco watched Hermione walk up the stairs and into the night. And shit, did she look terrified. _Well of course she’s terrified, you idiot, she just sold her life away._ He uncrossed his arms and walked towards her. She stopped when she saw him, eyes wide in unconcealed fear and reluctance.

“Follow me, Granger,” Draco’s voice was much harsher than he intended it to be, “Keep your head down and your mouth shut.” He turned and began walking towards the portkey.

To his surprise, she listened, following so close she bumped into him when he stopped abruptly. She muttered an apology and moved so she was a couple feet behind him.

He turned and stepped to the side so she could see the plain book that was the portkey. He glanced over her shoulder to see the rest of the servants being doled out to their new masters. His stomach churned with disgust at the look of entitlement in most of the buyers’ faces, some of them glowing with outright glee at the prospect of ‘putting mudbloods in their place.’

“Come on,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “I need to get away from this circus.”

“Ok,” Hermione said, nodding. She stepped closer, and they both grabbed the book as the portkey opened.

**********

Hermione recovered from the dizziness to find herself in a spacious living room. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting from Draco’s house, but it certainly wasn’t the open, almost inviting atmosphere she now found herself in. Although there was a fair amount of Slytherin green in the drapes and throw pillows, there was also white side tables, and a comfortable looking tan suede couch/oversized armchair set. Behind her was a beautiful dark wood staircase, under which was a hallway leading to the other parts of the house. It was a pleasant surprise to see the large windows and plethora of lamps that gave the whole room a much lighter air.

Draco set the book into a shelf next to the oversized fireplace of polished stone that was no doubt connected to the floo network. Then he turned and waved a hand toward the items sitting on the coffee table.

“I suppose we should get this over with,” he stated simply. “Your jobs will include mostly cooking and cleaning. There’s a total of 10 rooms, not including the servant quarters, which is just off the kitchen. If there are any other chores I need, I’ll tell you.”

Draco picked up a long rectangular box and a small book from the coffee table. “Um, here,” he handed them to her unceremoniously.

“I wasn’t aware servants were allowed to have wands,” Hermione’s distaste at saying the word servant was overshadowed by her confusion. She took the box and opened it, revealing a simple wand with a few recognizable markings on the handle. She’d read about training wands. They were used for kids who showed a magical ability at a younger age, to keep them from hurting themselves.

“They realized some jobs might be better served with magic,” he shrugged. “It’s limited, of course. The book tells you which spells work with it. Good thing you like reading, right?”

Hermione looked up, fully prepared to shoot him a vicious glare. Then she saw the small twitch of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He was trying to lighten the mood. She gave him a small smile before looking away. Draco cleared his throat.

“There’s, uh, one more thing,” he said gruffly. He picked up what almost looked like a jewelry box and opened it. Hermione gasped in shock as she saw what it contained.

“No,” she shook her head, stepping back. “Absolutely not. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Inside the box was a half-inch wide, shining silver collar. It had tiny runes etched into the side, creating an intricate design that might have been considered beautiful to a Muggle eye. But Hermione viewed the runes with absolute horror, knowing they could not possibly be anything good.

“You didn’t seriously think they’d let you lot run around without restraints, did you?” Draco grabbed the collar and set the box down. “You should be grateful it’s not a dog collar.”

“It’s one thing to be a servant, but I am not a dog, and I refuse to be collared like one!” Hermione took a step towards Malfoy as her voice rose. Her shock had quickly changed into righteous anger at the injustice of the whole situation.

Before Draco realized what he was doing, his open palm slapped Hermione, effectively stopping her tirade. A seed of self-loathing twisted in the pit of his stomach, but he squashed it down as rage at her insubordination took hold.

“You signed up for this! Brightest witch of our age,” he sneered, now only inches from her face, “You should have known there would be a way to keep you _slaves_ in line.”

Hermione’s eyes were clenched shut from the moment that hand had touched her face. She hated her cowardice, but she was frozen in place. She knew there was nothing she could do, no way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Draco stepped back slightly, still no more than a foot from her face. She could feel the heat, the rage rolling off him so thick she could barely breathe.

“Now,” his voice dropped to a low, deadly serious tone. He waited until she opened her eyes and looked blankly at him. “You will wear this collar. You will _not_ complain about it, or try to tamper with it in any way. Understand, Granger?”

“Yes,” she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He motions for her to turn around, which she does, pulling her hair up. He gently yet briskly attached the collar around her neck. It fit around the middle of her neck, snug enough to stay in place but with enough give that she wouldn’t be choking. She turned back around to face him, chin held firm as she stared straight ahead, refusing to cower under the intense humiliation she was feeling.

Draco stared at her for a moment, anger still evident in his eyes. He turned towards a small cabinet on the wall and grabbed a bottle of firewhisky out of it. Without looking back at her, he headed up the stairs. He needed to drink until he forgot about all that had happened tonight.

“Clean that shit up,” he barked. “And don’t disturb me.”

Hermione watched him storm away, presumably to drink himself into a stupor. She gathered the boxes and her wand with its how-to guide, and made her way through to the kitchen. She threw the boxes away before finding the door that led to her room.

She wasn’t sure it could even be called a bedroom. There was barely room to walk around the twin-size mattress that took up most of the limited space. In the corner at the head of the bed was a small two drawer dresser that apparently doubled as a nightstand, with a small bare bulb lamp on it. She opened the drawers to find brand new clothes inside, three sets of a generic maid’s outfit, and one set of plain colored pajamas. She was surprised to see that they were in her size, and wondered if the auction people had somehow sent them. She took in the room in a daze, before changing into the pajamas and settling on the bed.

Hermione curled into a ball on the old, uncomfortable mattress. She missed Ron. She missed the family she had found with him, with Harry and Ginny. She had felt safe, felt protected. The prison break had terrified a lot of people. It was too soon, many were still too scared from Voldemort’s reign, and the Ministry was not stable enough to stand against another assault. She’d known that day what was inevitable.

She tucked the thin quilt around her, trying in vain to rid some of the chill that had seeped into her bones. The cold matched the heavy feeling in her heart. She knew they would have found her letter, the one that explained her reasoning for running away. The Weasley family were purebloods, so as much as the new reign of Death Eaters may despise them, they were safe from persecution. Unless they tried to hide a Muggle-born like her. So she’d left, told them not to come looking for her. She’d thought than any price she would be forced to pay would be worth it, if it kept those she loved safe.

Her hand reached up to feel the collar resting snugly against her neck. She’d never once thought she would ever be put in this position, forced to serve a man she’d hated most of her childhood. A man who had always treated her like she was worse than dirt beneath his boot. The tears finally came, as she cried for her lost family, for all those who were now suffering at the hands of cruel masters, for the hopelessness of her situation. Only when the tears finally ran out, did exhaustion take her into a dreamless sleep.


	3. The List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so it's been a small eternity since I updated. Between moving, starting back at school, and a trip to Arizona, I've been pretty busy!  
> That being said, I've finally figured out more of the plot, so updates should come a little more reliably from now on :D
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Draco fidgeted with his tie before turning to walk down the stairs. He had no idea what he was walking into. He half expected the place to be completely trashed. _Which is what you deserve, given how much of a dick you were last night._

Instead, the main living area looked exactly as he’d left it, except for the collar box which had disappeared. A soft clanging sound drifted in from the kitchen. He took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

“Good morning,” Hermione said brightly. She turned around and placed a plate on the counter, where there was already coffee waiting. Draco stared down at the omelet sitting in front of him. He looked back up at Hermione, unable to keep the confusion completely off his face.

“Well come on,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t want to be late to work.”

Draco sat down, inspecting the omelet with his fork. It smelled amazing, but…

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Hermione blurted out. “It’s not poisoned or anything. Just eat.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up in shock at her outburst as he took a bite. He turned his shocked look down towards the omelet. He hadn’t realized Granger could cook. It wasn’t long before his plate was clean and he was finishing his coffee. He sat staring at the mug in his hands.

“Listen, Granger,” he cleared his throat, looking up before continuing, “About last night-”

She held up a hand to stop him. Draco noticed the guarded look on her face

“Can we please not talk about this? I don’t want to think about last night. Why don’t we just start fresh?”

Draco pondered this for a moment, before giving a curt nod and setting his mug down.

“Right then. I should be off the work.” He stood and began to walk out, only to stop at the doorway. He pulled out his wand, summoning two pieces of parchment from upstairs. He turned and handed to her. She stepped forward to take it, apprehension clear on her face.

“This is a basic floor plan for the house,” he explained, “So you can find your way around. There’s also a list of chores; some are daily, some are less frequent, it says on there which are which.”

As he explained, he saw Hermione’s whole demeanor change. She seemed to curl in on herself, her eyes moved to the floor.  Draco briefly wondered at how quickly and completely the change was.

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, eyes still glued to the floor.

“Look at me,” Draco insisted, voice hard. Hermione looked up through her eyelashes, shoulders still hunched over.

“There will be no ‘sir’,” Draco continued. “You will call me Malfoy, or Draco, just as you always did. Alright, Granger?”

Hermione raised her head a little higher, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

“Alright Malfoy,” she said, voice no longer shaky.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I shall return around 7 this evening. Please have supper prepared. Something Italian I think.”

Hermione waited until she heard the Floo before she let out the breath she’d been holding. Her knees were shaking and her eyes were already stinging. She had decided last night to try to make the best of the situation, but it was much easier said than done.

The edge of the counter dug into her stomach as she leaned against it for support. She put her head in her hands, prepared to let the tears take over once more. After a few minutes, she raised her head in confusion. Maybe she had finally run out of tears at last. She took one more deep but shaky breath before pushing off to stand up straight.

She reached for the parchments she had discarded onto the counter. The top one was indeed a layout of the house, each room neatly labeled in what she assumed was Malfoy’s handwriting. She set that parchment aside and turned her attention to the list. It was a simple bullet point list, also written in Malfoy’s elegant scrawl. It all seemed fairly simple, especially given that the servant’s wand allowed for most cleaning spells. Hermione looked back at the map to find the cleaning supply closet. There was no point in dawdling around.

**********

Draco was working through lunch when he heard a knock on his office door.

“Come in,” he called, eyes never leaving the file in front of him.

“Draco,” Lucius said his name as if it were more of a fact than a greeting. Draco suppressed his sigh as he closed the folder and looked up.

“Hello, Father,” he said simply. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I thought I’d see how things are going,” Lucius mused, “I imagine it is quite tedious to be going through files that were kept so haphazardly.”

Draco glanced at the stack of files next to him. When the Death Eaters took over the Ministry, he was charged with managing many of the new order’s finances. It wasn’t until after he took the position, however, that he learned how incomplete the records were. It was proving difficult work to figure out where exactly the Ministry stood.

“I’ll manage,” Draco said curtly. “Although it is time consuming, so why don’t you tell me why you are here?”

The elder Malfoy pursed his lips, eyes shooting daggers of ice at his son. He quickly recovered, displaying once more a face of feigned disinterest.

“I was simply curious whether you had been,” Lucius paused, as if choosing his words carefully, “Fruitful in your efforts at the auction last night.”

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He really could not stand these games with his father. Most times he would play along regardless, but he was clearly stressed today.

“Why yes, Father, I did purchase one of the lots at the auction,” Draco said with a vicious smile. “Of course, you already knew that. You also know who it is, so why don’t we desist with these pointless word games, and you say what you came here to say.”

“Fine,” Lucius said tersely. “I only came to remind you that regardless of any…. personal connections you may have, you need to maintain the proper boundaries with your servant.”

“I am aware of the recommended code of conduct,” Draco stated. “I received the packet this morning just like all the others.”

“Right,” the elder Malfoy glances around the room briefly. He turns to leave but pauses at the door. “Do not forget that the DoMIS appreciation dinner is in two weeks. You will be expected to attend and bring your servant with you.”

“Fine,” Draco snapped, opening the file and effectively dismissing the other man. He stared at the papers until he heard the soft click of the door closing.

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He knew Granger would fight attending that dinner. He didn’t particularly want to go himself, but he knew it was out of his control. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had two weeks to work on that problem. He needed to take this whole situation one day at a time. He turned back to the files, but his ability to concentrate had greatly waned. Still, he knew he had no choice but to struggle on.

**********

After putting the cleaning supplies back in the closet, Hermione wandered back into the kitchen. She opened the pantry cupboard. It appeared to be charmed so that the shelves refilled themselves on a regular basis. _Of course, spoiled rich boy couldn’t be bothered with such plebian tasks as going to the store_. She shook her head as she reached for a box of fettuccine noodles. She grabbed a pot and saucepan from the other cupboard, and set water to boil. She turned to the fridge and got out the parmesan cheese and cream.

For the first time in weeks, a real smile spread over Hermione’s face as she began to warm the cream in the saucepan. She has always found solace in cooking. It is the one place she follows no rules, no recipes, making creations either from memory or from experimenting. Draco’s kitchen is well stocked, with brand new equipment, most of which looks unused. She grinned wider. Maybe this arrangement didn’t have to be entirely horrible after all.

**********

Draco stepped into the elevator. He’d pushed through the paperwork until his eyes started to give out. He knew a stiff drink was in order when he got home.

The elevator stopped on the next floor, and Blaise Zabini walked on. He grinned when he saw Draco, who gave a small grimace in reply.

“You look knackered,” Blaise said in way of greeting.

“Endless pile of paperwork today,” Draco replied.

“I don’t envy your job, that’s for sure,” Blaise said with a laugh. Draco forced a small chuckle.

“I’m headed down to the pub,” Blaise continued. “You up for a drink?”

“Nah, I have to go deal with things at home.” Draco ran a hand over his face. He’d been worrying, preparing how he was going to handle things when he got home tonight.

“Ah, that’s right,” Blaise nodded, then glanced sideways at Draco. “I’m still a little surprised at you, Draco. You never liked Granger.”

Draco shrugged but didn’t speak. It’s not like he needed to hide anything from Blaise. They both felt the pressures to fit into pureblood society, even if neither of them really wanted to. The only reason for keeping his reasoning from Blaise was that he didn’t understand his choices himself.

The elevator stopped on the lobby floor, and both men stepped out.

“Well, good luck,” Blaise said as they approached the Floo exits.

“Ta,” Draco replied absentmindedly, his mind already focused on the unpredictable evening to come.

**********

 Draco dusted the Floo powder off his suit as he stepped into the living room. After setting his briefcase down, he turned towards the attached dining area. He saw one place set at the far end of the table. He stared briefly at it before walking calmly into the kitchen. Hermione had some sort of mindless Muggle song playing in the room, and she was dancing while stirring something on the stove. As she twirled around, she saw him standing in the doorway and stopped short.

“Oh, you’re back!” Hermione exclaimed, scrambling to shut the music off with a flourish of her wand. “I’m sorry, the music helps me cook.”

Draco gave no reaction as he walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a plate. He reached into the drawer below and began to pull out a silverware.

“I already set the table,” Hermione said.

“Last I checked, there were two of us here,” Draco looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t need to eat?”

“I-” Hermione stuttered. “I figured I would be eating in here.”

“Well I say differently,” Draco asserted, turning to take the place setting to the dining table. Then he turned to a small cabinet a chose a bottle of wine, which he proceeded to pour into two glasses. A couple minutes later he heard the kitchen door swing open.

Hermione walked in and set two small salads on the table. She stood awkwardly next to one of the seats. Malfoy gestured to the chair, and she sat down quickly. She stared down at her hands until he sat and began to eat. Only then did she pick up her fork. _Come on, get a grip Hermione_. Earlier, while cooking, she had felt almost, not happy, but content. Now however, she was back to feeling completely lost. It was not a feeling she had experienced very often in her life.

After the salad, she took the plates back into the kitchen. She quickly plated two helpings of fettucine alfredo and returns to the dining room. She set the plates down, sitting automatically. She did not wait for Draco this time before digging in.

She was about halfway through her serving when she heard Draco set his fork down.

“I don’t want a slave,” he stated.

“I’m sorry, what?” she definitely wasn’t expecting him to say _that_.

“Gone deaf, have you Granger?” Draco smirked. “I know you’re too bright to misunderstand the words.”

Hermione shot him a glare. Draco simply laughed.

“More like unsure which direction this conversation is headed,” she responded quietly.

There it was again, Draco noticed. A protective shell being pulled over, hiding the real Hermione behind a timid and scared young woman.

“If you’d let me continue, you’d know,” Draco said, trying to put kindness into his voice. He had no idea if he’d actually done so, but the bushy-haired head nodded once, so he continued.

“Like I was saying: I don’t want a slave,” he stated simply.  “And you don’t want to be one.”

“Obviously,” Hermione rolled her eyes.  “But I am.”

“I _know_ that,” Draco retorted. “You don’t have to act like one all the time though. You shouldn’t stop being Granger.”

“Ok….” Hermione’s brow furrowed as she studied the man in front of her. This was a very different side of Draco, one she wasn’t sure she’d seen before.

“Let’s just treat this more like we’re friends,” Malfoy forced a smile. “Except where you do all the cleaning.”

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. Draco let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This would be much easier if they could both be themselves to some extent.

“Ok?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” she gave him a shy smile. “I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if any of you out there are interested in beta-reading, please let me know! I wrote this chapter fairly quickly, so I'm hoping I caught all the typos.
> 
> As always, comments are fantastic and kudos are love!


	4. The Photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez, I thought I was going to keep to a real writing schedule. I've had a very crazy month, so apologies!  
> Hope you all enjoy! Thanks to WhovianMaiPotter for beta reading!

Hermione wandered aimlessly around the house. It was a fair-sized house, two bedrooms, not including her cupboard she slept in.  _ Ha. Wonder if this is what Harry felt like _ . She cringed at the awful joke.

The chores were not challenging in the least, which left her mind a lot of room to wander and, of course, to worry. She knew a resistance had started to form almost immediately after the prison break, but she had gotten captured before she was able to truly contribute to the cause.

She spent a lot of her time in those first several weeks wandering through the house and observing the sparse decorations. She’d had to admit to herself that she’d never really known Draco. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, but since she was stuck in this situation, she might as well get to know him now. After all, he wasn’t acting like a nasty blood purist towards her. Maybe he’d opened his mind a little. Hermione found herself preoccupied with the idea of uncovering if and how much her unexpected companion had changed. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot she could learn from bare walls.

Quicker than she anticipated, a sort of pattern developed. Wake up startled from a nightmare. Get up and get breakfast ready for Draco. Clean the kitchen. Lay on the couch and stare at nothing. Dust what needed to be dusted. Take a nap. Try to pull from her drained energy resources so she could prepare dinner for Draco. Clean dishes after dinner. Stare at bedroom ceiling until she passes out from boredom.

As the weeks dragged on, she felt a thick fog filling her mind. After learning all she could from the sparsely decorated house, she found herself with ample time and no project. In the early hours after her nightmares woke her, she would wish she could simply sink through the bed and the floor and disappear into the earth. The solid weight of the collar around her neck was an ever-present pressure bringing her down. Objectively, she knew the collar was almost weightless. Yet she found herself unable to hold her head up high anymore. Objectively, she knew what the symptoms of depression were. Yet she found the fog persistent, thickening with every sleepless night.

And the days continued.

**********

The Ministry had set up a counter in the lobby for DoMIS, for what they called “prospective clients.” Draco passed this counter as he walked towards the elevators. The counter didn’t open for another hour, and there was already a line at least 15 people long, all eagerly waiting to purchase tickets to the next round of auctions. His lips curled briefly in disgust before he rearranged his face into a blank expression.

“Hey, Malfoy,” a voice called out just as Draco reached the elevators. He turned to see Blaise jogging to catch up to him.

“Hey Zabini,” he responded with a small smile.

“Where have ya been, man?” the other man inquired. “You missed the Quidditch match on Friday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Draco rubbed a hand over his face. “My mother roped me into a family dinner that night. I meant to send you an owl.”

“It’s cool,” Blaise squinted his eyes at the other man. “Are you sure you’re ok though? You’ve seemed really distracted lately.”

“It’s just the job,” Draco sighed in frustration. “Bloody idiots who were running financials before didn’t have a fucking clue what they were doing. It’s been a mess trying to straighten it all out.”

“You’ll get it done in no time,” Zabini assured him, slapping him on the shoulder in support. The elevator came to a stop, and Blaise stepped out. “If you want to grab a pint to chill out, you know where I’ll be.”

“Ta,” Draco said as the elevator lifted away.

Work wasn’t actually what had been distracting him lately. It was the crazy turn of events that had led to a bushy haired young woman cooking him dinner most nights. He felt like he’d fallen down a rabbit hole somewhere, like the world had tilted onto its side.  _ This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. _

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Dwelling on half-formed feelings wouldn’t help anything. He was stuck in this situation regardless of how he felt. He needed to just deal with what came. So he closed down the seed of foreboding creeping in his mind. Shut off his emotions, and focused on hard facts.

It was the only way he knew to survive.

**********

Hermione was dusting Draco’s home office in the afternoon. She shook her head at the amount of dust collected on some of the filing cabinets. This man could really use a house elf. Well, before she came along.

She was cleaning out the desk drawers and trying her best to organize it a little in a way that Draco wouldn’t get upset about it. She cleaned out one drawer full of quills, empty ink wells, and torn pieces of parchment.

She pulled a pile of parchments out of the drawer and was about to throw them away, when she noticed one of the papers was different. She pulled the photograph from the stack, the rest of the pile discarded onto the desk as she studied the photograph in her hands.

It was a beautiful valley, with hills covered in a gorgeous array of gold, red, and orange trees. In the photo, there was a picnic basket and blanket on the ground. Because it was a wizard photograph, she could see the small blond-headed boy, smiling and laughing as he tries to run away from his mother. She eventually scoops him up, smiling with him as she hugs him close.

Hermione watched the photo repeat for what could have been five minutes or an hour. She was mesmerized with how young Narcissa looked, how happy. She found herself smiling at the laughing Draco in the photograph. She had never seen him so carefree. Her smile faltered as she pondered on how awful life would become for that little boy, to turn him into the snobbish jerk she met first year.

“Austria,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

Hermione jumped out of her skin. Draco was leaning against the doorjamb, jacket off and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Her face was hot with embarrassment at being caught snooping on what was clearly a memory Draco wanted to keep private. For a rare occurrence, she was at a complete loss for words.

“Austria,” Draco repeated, pushing off from the door and crossing the room. “That’s where that was taken. We only went the one time. With my aunt.”

“It looks beautiful,” Hermione said softly. “Why didn’t you ever go back?”

“My father,” Draco spat bitterly. “He said it was ‘unseemly’ to visit the Muggle countryside. Shortly after that he publicly disgraced Andromeda, cutting her off from her family. We never went anywhere after that.”

Hermione carefully placed the photo back in the drawer. She was unsure what to say; she hadn’t expected such a personal confession from the young man. Luckily, she was saved from the awkwardness when Draco cleared his throat.

“Let’s go downstairs, yeah?” he suggested. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

**********

The days dragged on. Hermione was starting to get cabin fever. The almost complete lack of social and intellectual stimulation was making her come unhinged. Her emotions were changing on a dime, as were her energy levels and appetite. For example, this morning she had lay on the couch and stared blankly at the wall for hours, but now she was perfectly cheery. She hummed a tune and danced around the office dusting.

“GRANGER!” Hermione stopped mid-twirl when she heard the anger-filled bellow from downstairs.

She set the duster down and walked with slight trepidation towards the stairs. When she reached the landing, she couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling out of her at the sight she saw.

Draco was sprawled out on the floor, briefcase flung away from him during the fall. He looked utterly confused as to how he got there. It was the most ungraceful she’d ever seen him.

“Why the fuck is the floor wet Granger?” his confusion quickly was replaced by the malice Hermione was used to seeing from their school days. In a dizzying wave, she felt her emotions switch drastically from amused to annoyed.

“Because I just mopped it  _ Malfoy _ ,” she retorted.

“Why couldn’t you just use magic?” he shot back, struggling to stand. He gripped the couch as if he half expected the floor to throw him back onto the ground. “That’s what you have a fucking  _ wand _ for.”

“Because magic would take two seconds, and I’d be cooped in this tiny house all day without a damned thing to do!” she exclaimed.

Finally trusting his feet to hold steady, Draco brushed his hands off on his slacks. His demeanor solidified into the bully-like sneer that seemed so natural on him.

“Figured you were used to cramped spaces. You dated the Weasel. Didn’t his whole family live in a matchbox?” the blond man taunted.

Hermione felt in that moment that she finally understood the phrase “seeing red”. She was through being polite and patient.

“You have NO right to insult Ron OR his family! They are the kindest, most caring people I know. They are better people than you will ever be. Just when I think you may have changed, you insist on being such a cruel, derisive, pathetic  _ bully _ ! I hate being here and I hate you for trapping me here!”

Without thinking, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Malfoy. She’d sworn she’d never use the spell Harry told her about in sixth year, but she wanted the man to suffer. She wanted him to feel just as miserable as she felt every day. Without thinking, she spoke the incantation.

“Sectumsempra!”

Hermione saw a bright white light, and her body convulsed as if electrocuted. Fire burned through her veins, and she didn’t recognize the guttural scream that tore from her throat. She backed away from the railing as the white hot pain continued to blind her. She doubled over in agony, releasing another, harsher scream as she stumbled. Her scream was cut off as she felt her throat close. She struggled fruitlessly to take in oxygen.

She felt her legs give out as the world went black.


	5. The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear one of these days I'm going to get on a writing schedule.... Thanks to my fabulous beta for her help!

“What the hell happened, man?”  
Draco took a gulp of firewhisky before turning to face Blaise. He knew calling his friend to help treat the damage was going to earn him a good dose of judgment.  
“Is she okay?” Draco asked softly.  
“She’ll be fine,” Blaise sighed. “She needs to rest for a few days, and her cuts will need tending to, but yeah, she’s okay.”  
Draco nodded absently. His mind kept flashing back, replaying the memory.  
_Draco braces for the pain he’s endured before. The bright flash still hurts through closed eyelids, and he hears a scream. He opens his eyes and sees her fall to the ground, writhing in pain. Electric bolts shoot out from the collar, shocking various limbs. The rebounded curse carves into her skin, leaving gaping wounds across her stomach. The smell of fresh blood mingled with the stench of singed flesh. As he reaches for her, one of the bolts shocks his arm, forcing him back. Hermione’s eyes roll back in her head as she continues to flop unconsciously._  
“Draco!”  
Draco blinked and saw Blaise staring at him.  
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was thinking.”  
“Yeah,” Blaise walked over and poured himself a firewhisky. “And you turned paler than normal while you were thinking. So start talking.”  
Draco explained what had happened, how the spell had backfired onto Hermione, and how the collar punished her. Blaise sat silently for a few minutes after Draco finished.  
“You are an utter berk.”  
“What?!” Draco sputtered. “How on earth did you get that conclusion? She’s the one who tried to attack me!”  
“Come off it, Draco,” the other man chided. “She’s been cooped up here for how many months now?”  
Draco stopped, giving Blaise a puzzled look.  
“When He ruled the Manor, and you couldn’t leave for weeks, do you remember how that felt?” Blaise gave his friend a knowing look.  
“That was different,” Draco argued.  
“You’re right,” Blaise conceded. “At least you had other people around. You had your mother. Who does she have besides one poncy blond who’s technically her captor?”  
Blaise set down his glass. He patted Draco on the shoulder and watched the man retreat into his own thoughts.  
The sun set on Draco sitting in that chair, stuck in the whirlwind of his thoughts.

  
**********

  
Hermione blinked her eyes open groggily. For a second, she thought she was in Hogwarts, in the infirmary. The bed was more comfortable than she remembered….  
She heard a shuffle nearby. She turned to see a messy blond head curled up in a chair next to the bed. She tried to sit up, and groaned as pain shot through her entire body.  
“Hey,” Draco was suddenly leaning over her bed. “You’re awake.”  
“What happened?” she winced at the way her voice croaked.  
“Here, drink some water,” Draco held a glass to her lips. She reached up to take the glass and downed the whole glass. Afterwards, she stared at her captor, waiting.  
“Right, um,” he stammered. “You’ve been out for a few days.”  
“I gathered that,” she said drily. “What exactly did you do to me?”  
“What I did to you?!” Draco exclaimed. Hermione winced at his voice. Draco took a breath. “Oh no, this was 100% you. I didn’t even have my wand out.”  
“Then, how?” she pursed her lips in confusion.  
“Come on, Granger, use that brain of yours.” Draco paused, then sighed. “The collar won’t let you hurt me. So, when you cast the spell, it rebounded onto you.”  
Hermione thought for a second, then her head fell back against the pillows.  
“Damn. You’re right.”  
“I usually am,” Draco said with a smirk.  
Hermione tried to sit up, wincing at the pain coursing through her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this weak.  
“Whoa, easy there Granger,” Draco said. “You need to rest for a few more days.”  
“That’s why I was trying to move down to my room, Malfoy.”  
“No,” Draco stated firmly.  
Hermione wanted to argue. She was fine, she could handle it on her own. But all the excuses died on her lips as the exertion forced her once again to sleep.

**********

Over the next few days, Draco rarely left Hermione’s side. He brought her water and crackers. They talked and laughed while she was awake. He read or worked while she slept. He transfigured the chair into a larger couch so he could sleep on it, always waking the second hermione made any noise.  
“Why are you being so nice?” she asked one afternoon.  
“You’re hurt,” Draco said offhandedly. “Someone should take care of you when you’re hurt.”  
“It’s just so out of character for you,” Hermione prodded.  
“Yeah, well,” Draco leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “We said we’d be friends. It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve been a crappy one lately.”  
“So this is all guilt induced kindness?” Hermione chuckled.  
“Of course,” Draco gave her a wolfish grin.  
They both laughed before falling back into companionable silence.  
“You know,” Draco said after a few minutes. “I’m going to track down Potter. And hex him for sharing that damned spell.”  
“He probably wouldn’t stop you,” Hermione responded, closing her eyes. “He hated himself after using that spell on you. He still feels horrible about it I imagine.”  
Draco looked at Hermione’s face. She was holding back her emotions, her pain. It was an expression he’d seen very often in the mirror.  
“Hey,” he said. “Hurry up and get better. We’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow.”  
“Why?” she asked.  
“You need stuff to decorate your new room, of course,” Draco stated before standing and walking out of the room.  
Hermione grinned brightly. Maybe there was hope for this life after all.

**********

Draco ran his hand through his hair as Hermione perused the shelves. He wasn’t sure where this nice streak of his came from. Yes, he’d made a conscious decision not to be a pretentious prick anymore, but wasn’t that supposed to be a struggle? It still was with most people. He scowled slightly as a young witch squeezed past him in the too tiny aisle. So, most people still pissed him off. He couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t feel that way about Hermione. Also, when did she stop being Granger in his head?  
The woman in question walked towards him, looking nervous.  
“We should go,” she said softly.  
“Why?” Draco puzzled. “You haven’t picked anything out.”  
“It’s all too expensive,” Hermione muttered.  
He cocked his eyebrow. “Do you really think price matters to me?”  
“But-“  
“Pick out whatever you want, Granger,” Draco interrupted. “I’ll tell the clerk to charge it to me.”  
Her eyes lit up and she smiled thankfully at him. She turned and walked back into the sea of clothes racks.  
Draco felt his heart clench a little. What the hell?

**********

Hermione wandered through the shop, picking out clothes that she would never have been able to afford on her own.  She absentmindedly played with the scarf around her neck. It was a gorgeous velvet scarf, blood red with autumn gold trim. Draco had given it to her before they got to Diagon Alley. She still couldn't trust the man completely, but had to admit that the care and attention he’d shown these last few weeks was more than she’d received in years.  
She was searching through the jeans when someone bumped into her.  
“Oh, sorry,” a sing-song voice said.  
“Luna?” Hermione looked wide-eyed.  
“Hello Hermione,” Luna said with a smile.  
“What are you doing these days?” Hermione asked.  
“Well, the Ministry shut down the Quibbler,” Luna explained. “But I’ve been doing some undercover research of my own.”  
“That’s really good,” Hermione said. Same old Luna.  
“How are things going with Draco?”  
“What?” Hermione sputtered. Her hand immediately flew to her scarf, making sure it was securely covering the collar underneath.  
“It’s ok, Hermione,” Luna touched her arm reassuringly. “I’m sure you made the decision you felt was necessary.”  
“Yes, um, I did,” Hermione said. It was the first time she’d heard someone speak of slavery in a way that wasn’t outright condescending.  
“Well, I’ll see you around.”  
Luna abruptly turned and skipped away, leaving Hermione once again bewildered by her strange classmate.


End file.
